


Twisting Side Stories

by Iniora_Nackatori



Series: Twisting [2]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Catch-All for What Doesn't Fit in the Main Fic, Family Fluff, Gen, Growing Up Torna, Very Seriously AU, general fluffiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23605387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iniora_Nackatori/pseuds/Iniora_Nackatori
Summary: 500 years is a long time to fill.  Herein are a few of the stories of what Torna gets up to.Set in the Twisting Fate series.
Series: Twisting [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699108
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	1. Girly

**Author's Note:**

> These are stand-alone one shots meant to be a companion to the Twisting Fate fic. As such, reading Twisting Fate is a requirement for these stores to make sense.
> 
> One of these days I might actually get back to writing that monster...
> 
> To wit: Our first story opens an unspecified number of weeks after Chapter 9, long before anyone has a full understanding of what a Blade Eater is.

Mikhail flipped the pillow over. Punched it down. Flipped it back over again. Threw off the covers. Threw back on the covers. Try as he might, Mikhail could not get comfortable. It was as if… as if something were _tugging_ at him.

Sitting up in bed, Mikhail tried to pin down what _it_ was. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t thirsty. Nor was he sore, either. He just… couldn’t sleep.

Sighing, Mikhail got out of bed. Since he couldn’t sleep, he might as well do _something_. The ship clock showed it was the dead of night; the only ones on watch would be Minoth and Malos. Which made it the prefect time to practice Mikhail's guilty pleasure.

Dancing wasn’t something Mikhail liked to admit he enjoyed. Dancing was _girly_. The one time he’d been caught dancing by his peers, Mikhail had been ridiculed for _weeks_. Logically, Mikhail knew neither Lora nor Malos would tease him about it (much). Jin didn’t – but then Jin was his biggest brother and was awesome. Lora was blood-kin. It was her job to annoy Mikhail at least a little bit.

Lost as he was in his thoughts, Mikhail didn’t realize he was at the modified cargo hold until he got there. The cavernous space had been split up into parts for ease of use. There were weights held fast in racks; practice weapons of various types likewise held fast in racks; a rope suspended by the ceiling for climbing. The largest area of all had nothing in it except a well padded floor. They jokingly called it their other studio.

 _Did somebody leave the lights on?_ Mikhail wondered. The room seemed brighter inside than the hallway. Weirdly, when the door shut behind Mikhail, the studio's features sharpened. It almost was like the room had been transported outside and Mikhail was standing in the sun, except… dark.

Setting aside the oddity for the moment, Mikhail headed for the studio’s open space. There wasn’t a routine or pattern Mikhail wanted to perfect; at least not in the dead of night. Right now, Mikhail felt he just wanted to _move_. The rhythm of his own heart was music enough.

_Stretch first. Torn muscles suck._

Sufficiently stretched out, Mikhail bounced to his feet. Pulling on a meditation trick Jin had taught him, Mikhail closed his eyes as he breathed in. Slowly breathing out he tried to empty his mind. The tug that had drug him from bed nagged at Mikhail. Wrinkling his nose, Mikhail tried again. The world narrowed to the sound of his own heartbeat and the iridescent pulse of his Core Crystal.

_And step…!_

He wasn’t quite sure how long but, after a while, Mikhail thought he heard another rhythm. It… It kind of reminded Mikhail of the music kabuki plays were fond of using; all perky and full of acrobatics. It was different enough Mikhail decided he might as well try it.

_Move and quickstep back and roll and – fans. This needs a flutter of fans…!_

Yeah. Definitely Mikhail’s imagination. But it was fun to imagine he had fans in his hands. Fans he could flutter and twist to accentuate the beat. Fans that he could flick forward or back to spike plumes of dark light around him in time with the rhythm only Mikhail could hear. It was even more fun to pretend taps of ice matched the spiked plumes of dark light, changing up the rhythm, making it a dance-off challenge. The tune only Mikhail could hear sang with challenge as the ice sped up the rhythm. Spinning a skip over a spot slicking with ice, Mikhail laughed.

There was an answering laugh. In _Jin’s voice_.

Mikhail startled. The rhythm slipped from him; and in the next second, so did his footing. He crashed to the ground with a yelp.

Except he didn’t hit the ground.

Jin caught Mikhail long before Mikhail’s head could hit the mats. Smiling a cat’s secretive grin, Jin set Mikhail down so he was seated on the floor.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jin guessed.

Mikhail shook his head negative. Quietly, he noted, “I felt like something was… pulling on me.”

Jin scooped up something from the floor and handed it to Mikhail. The Blade’s grin was cat smug as he hummed, “These, perhaps?”

It took Mikhail a minute to register what _these_ were. They were a paired set of fans. Not normal fans… The red and silver metal that comprised their base and grips wasn’t a common material. It _felt_ almost like Jin’s sword: Ether condensed into a solid state. The feathery fan itself was glowing the same purple as Mikhail’s Core Crystal.

“Blade weapons…?” Mikhail’s eyes went wide as he realized, “ _My_ Blade weapons?”

Jin’s grin upgraded from cat smug to brilliant delight.

Mikhail hugged the fans to his chest. He had Blade weapons! ...that were fans. _Dancing_ fans.

Jin nudged Mikhail gently in a request to know what was wrong.

“They’re kind of girly,” Mikhail voiced his concern aloud.

Jin snorted with amusement. Rising to his feet, and pulling Mikhail to his as well, Jin requested, “Here.”

Mikhail handed his fans to Jin without hesitation. The fans glowed faintly in time with Mikhail feeling a light tug through his Core Crystal. Then, abruptly, the fans as a whole were large enough for Jin to hold properly. As Jin gave them a testing slash to his sides, there was another tug through Mikhail’s Core Crystal, and the fans’ glowing blades got _far_ larger. Jin held both fans in front of him, right fan over left, the fan’s tips pointed towards the ground. He slid his right foot forward and out in time with moving the right fan out in a slow slice of air. And then –

Then Jin _moved_.

Mikhail watched with widening eyes and quickening breath. Jin moving with the fans – with _Mikhail_ ’s fans – was watching a song given movement. Each move was as precise as Jin’s sword-work, and just as deadly. If there had been actual targets, they would have been dead. Dead and in _pieces_.

Jin lept into a spinning jump. Mikhail felt a wordless request for strength. Willing, _Yes!_ , Mikhail felt his Core Crystal glowing brighter. The paired crystals on his fans likewise glowed with an ether charge. Ether crackled along the fans’ blades as Jin reached the top of his jump. As gravity asserted itself, Jin brought both fans in front of him and slashed out and _down_ and –

Ice snapped along the ground, riding spears of darkness typed ether upwards into lethal stalagmites.

Chuckling at his expression, and not even faintly winded, Jin returned Mikhail’s fans to him.

...so maybe his fans _weren’t_ girly after all.


	2. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place shortly after "Girly".

"Has anyone seen Mik'?" Lora asked.

Activity on the bridge slowed to a halt. There hadn't been much going on to begin with: Addam had been passing his time on watch by teaching Haze and Jin some of the trickier aspects of their new home's controls. Haze and Jin had good fundamentals when it came to Tornan craft – Addam had insisted on lessons, what felt like a lifetime ago – but there were dense differences between a standard vessel and one crafted for the blackest of operations.

From the glances exchanged between the three, the answer to Lora's question was,  _ No _ .

"Have you checked the mess?" Addam suggested. A reasonable question given how Mikhail's appetite had been increasing of late.

Lora shook her head, stating, "First place I looked. I've checked the up-and-coming stage hall, the greenhouse. I even dared Minoth's workshop."

"Engineering?" Haze suggested. Jin had closed his eyes, head a quarter tipped to the right as if listening.

"Malos checked," Lora confirmed.

They noticed Jin was gone when an otherwise unexplainable wind sent loose clothing flying.

"We really do need to help Jin get better hold of that," Addam dumbly quipped.

"Yes, but where's he gone?" Lora demanded, absently using a hand to shake her blouse back into order. Addam opened his mouth. Lora cut him off. "I  _ know  _ after Mik'. But  _ where _ is still the question!"

The ship comm chirped for attention. Addam flipped the switch as he was closest.

Malos's droll tone filled the bridge: " _ Jin found Mik'. _ "

Lora tossed her hands in the air, visibly trying not to scream her frustration.

" _ Meet me in Hanger 1, _ " Malos continued. " _ You all need to see this. _ "

If it weren't for the mirth in Malos's voice, those words would have been concerning, indeed.

* * *

Hanger 1 denoted the starboard hanger aboard the Monoceros. Getting there from the bridge of the Marsanes took thirty minutes if a person were walking. For Jin, it had apparently taken thirty  _ seconds _ \-- which said an awful lot about how fast Jin could truly move now.

For Lora, Addam, and Haze, the trip took twenty minutes. They were the last to arrive, and what they found left Lora more confused than concerned.

Minoth was standing against a bulkhead out of the way, right hand on hip, both eyebrows raised in amused confusion. A step to Minoth's right was Mythra. Addam's Master Blade had her arms crossed and eyes wide, expression matching Minoth's. Halfway between the two and the scene unfolding stood Malos. The dark Master Blade looked like he wasn't sure if he should laugh.

Lora stopped next to Malos. Addam had stepped over to Minoth and Mythra to surreptitiously get a briefing. Haze hadn't stopped, just walked right up next to Jin.

Jin was standing at the feet of a kneeling night armored Siren. The Siren was holding one hand halfway out as if debating if Jin should be picked up or not. Her cockpit crystal was open fully. It took a second to realize –

"Mikhail?" Lora blinked.

Sure enough, her little brother was curled up on the cockpit's floor. From this distance, it looked like Mik' had fallen asleep while working on something. A book? The object he was half laying on, half curled around looked book-like in shape.

Haze's bright giggle drew Lora's eyes away from Mik' and on to Jin. Jin's exasperated amusement was half hidden by his hand. Exhaling, Jin looked up at Mikhail.

"He can't stay there," Jin said seemingly at large.

The Siren gave a soft, almost too quiet to be heard chirp. It was almost as if the great metal lady did not wish to disturb Mikhail's slumber. ...strike that. It was  _ absolutely _ like the great lady was trying to keep quiet for Mikhail's sake. Like watching an odd bird being cautious of a fluffy fledgling chick.

Jin gave the Artifice a  _ look _ on par to ones he'd give Lora herself when she proffered a complaint about too many vegetables on her plate.

The Artifice wilted minutely. She gave a testing little chirp.

Jin said, "Ocypete."

Whatever the strange word meant, it had an immediate effect. The Artifice lowered her hand completely to give Jin easy access. When Jin walked into the Siren's palm, she lifted him to her cockpit. There was another tiny chirp.

"Yes," Jin sighed with the same amused patience of dealing with little girls who thought vegetables were monsters, "I am sure Mikhail cannot sleep here."

Mikhail's sleepy grumble drifted, "Don' wanna get up, Jin..."

"Sleep," Jin murmured soothingly, pressing a chaste kiss to Mikhail's crown as he gathered up boy and book.

Whatever else Mikhail was saying got lost with Mikhail limply pressed into Jin's chest. The Siren lowered Jin and Mikhail to ground level, looking terribly sad at doing so. A soft warble of a chirp issued from her.

"Bye, 'Pyte," Mikahil sleep spoke loud enough to be heard.

Pyte? Who was --?

_ Oh! _

Lora's eyes were wide as it hit. Pyte. Short for  _ Ocypete _ . It wasn't a word. It was a  _ name _ .

"I didn't know the Sirens have names," Lora quietly confessed. In hindsight it was obvious --

"They don't," Malos stated.

Lora had no idea what to say to that save, "Well. Mikhail's does."

The Siren Ocypete visibly preened. At least that was the impression Lora got looking at how the lights glimmered in her optics.

"We certainly couldn't keep calling them all Siren," Haze tacked on as she shadowed Jin. "However would we keep them all straight?"

Malos arched an eyebrow, eyeing Mik' as Jin carried him past. Jin, showing his own dramatic flair, shifted so the book in Mikhail's grip was legible. The cover proclaimed it a journal of legends predating the founding of Alrest.

"Where the...?" Malos began. Stopped, and threw a suspicious look at the two Sirens occupying Hanger 1. Both Sirens did not react visibly. There was an impression of communication, though. Like a sound right on the edge of Lora's hearing.

"Aion?!" Mythra snorfled.

Malos slapped both hands to his face, his expression shouting,  _ How is this my life? _

Minoth added up Malos's expression, Jin's minx grin, Haze's giggles, and Mythra's exclamation. "Are you telling me," Minoth drew out each word, "there are surviving stories from the Architect's time?"

Mythra wisely stepped away from Minoth before answering, "Yes."

" _ Where?! _ "

Mythra said, "Aion can--"

Minoth was bolting for main engineering before Mythra could say more.

"And now we know where Minoth will be for the next decade," Addam quipped

Malos groaned. Lora hid a giggle behind her hand. Haze gave Malos's forearm what was supposed to be a commiserating pat. The wind Blade's giggles made the gesture moot. Jin had a curl of a smile on his lips, well hidden by his attention to getting Mikhail to bed.

Mythra's smile evened out with consideration, her eyes turning from everyone to the Sirens. Addam gave her a light elbow to the side; a subtle,  _ You alright? _ Mythra waved her Driver off in a,  _ It's nothing _ .

"Names, huh?" Mythra mused.

She let the thought percolate, returning back to work.

* * *

Mikhail covered his mouth as he yawned. There was no one around to tease him about his breath or anything, but he did it anyway, the action ingrained as habit. It was an annoying habit which caused him to nearly drop his screwdriver into the guts of the part he was tinkering with. The thing was shaped like a tube with a flattened bottom and was as round as Mikhail was tall. It was heavy, too: It took two Blades to lift it, and a heavyweight motorized dolly to move it. The part itself wasn't for anything vital in Marsanes or the Monoceros. Beyond that, Mikhail didn't know what it was.

It was a puzzle Mikhail wanted to solve himself.

~ _ Operator recharge?~ _

The question rumbled in his Core Crystal feeling like a friendly nudge to his chest. It wasn't words, really. More like an impression; a wink in the dark.

"'M not sleepy," Mikhail stubbornly protested.

He was  _ tired _ . Tired of being the smallest. Tired of being the weakest. Tired of being... being  _ coddled _ .

~ _ Operator. _ ~

Exasperation touched fondness. Feeling Lora and Haze wrap him up in an extra fluffy towel.

Squaring his shoulders, Mikhail resumed his tinkering with a will. He wasn't being silly. (Part of him knew he was.) It was just so... so frustrating! Mikhail could do more. He  _ knew _ he could!

"To each do within one's measure."

Mikahil put down his screwdriver so he wouldn't drop it. Turning, he saw Mythra wasn't so much sneaking up as walking with an air of purpose.

Mikhail got as far as thinking,  _ What she up to? _ Then Mythra had both arms around Mikhail's middle, hauling Mikhail off his feet.

"Mythra!" Mikhail cried out. Reflex had him reaching for Jin. Jin's ice was spring thaw laughter in Mikhail's heart.

"To each do within one's measure," Mythra repeated. The Master Blade adjusted her grip as Mikhail squirmed. Mythra purred, "And not one inch more!" before launching a tickle attack.

"Myth-ra~!" Mikhail protested, wiggling with everything he had. His sister-in-Core adjusted her grip with every wiggle. At one point Mikhail thought he was free -- even though  _ free _ would mean falling on his face -- only to find himself tangled in Mythra's hold all over again.

Mythra crashed to the floor with an abruptness that left him breathless. (Mikhail was not breathless because he was tired, really!) A halfhearted attempt to wiggle free left Mikhail pinned comfortably in Mythra's lap. The light-element Blade combed her fingers through Mikhail's hair. Mikhail leaned into the caress -- not because he liked it. It was tactically advantageous to let Mythra think she had Mikhail pinned. As soon as she relaxed her guard, Mikhail would slip free.

"You know what happens to a muscle that's overworked?" Mythra asked seemingly at random.

Mikhail rolled his eyes. The memories were fuzzy, but Mikhail felt like it had been the first thing Jin had taught Lora and him. It had been the very first thing Jin had taught Mik' once he judged Mikhail stable enough to resume swordsmanship lessons. There wasn't any way for Mikhail  _ not _ to know it -- and Mythra  _ knew _ that.

Mythra took Mikhail's groan as answer enough to continue: "Your brain's a muscle, too. If you overwork it, you turn into a cooked noodle."

Mikhail huffed, "I  _ know _ , Mythra. But nobody's letting me do anything!"

...erk. Mik' hadn't meant to blurt that bit.

Mythra squeezed Mikhail in a soft hug.

"I know everyone's scared 'cause of..." Mikhail trailed off, right hand absently hovering over his Core Crystal. Mythra rested her hands over his, her touch feather light. "But I can do  _ more _ . I want to  _ help _ ."  _ With more than just the cooking and dishes and laundry, _ rang silently between them.

Mikhail thought he might have said too much when the silence drug out.

"How'd you come up with the name?" Mythra asked.

Startled by the abrupt topic change, Mikhail leaned back as far as he dared to look Mythra in the eye. At this angle, the most he could see was her chin. He asked, "You mean Ocypete?"

Mythra nodded, humming affirmative.

"I was reading Minoth's story, the one about the exiled price, and asked if she knew any stories," Mikhail began.

"Were you in her cockpit?" Mythra interrupted.

Mikhail blushed a little. "It's not like Aion or the others 'll let me go with 'em without one of you," Mikhail pointed out.

"They won't?"

Mikhail had to look to make sure he was hearing right. As he confirmed, "They won't," he wondered,  _ Didn't Mythra already know? _

"Huh."

Mythra... didn't know? The idea was so shocking, Mikhail was stunned.

~ _ Security protocol. Protect.~ _

The feelings reminded Mikhail of what Mythra had said so long ago about the cosmetics stall owner who was a spy. What she didn't know, she couldn't tell, not even by accident. That was why the two had talked using code.

"Do you not know a lot about Artifices?" Mikhail dared.

Mythra hummed a thinking hum. The silence lasted so long Mikhail resisted the urge to wiggle.

"I know what Artifices exist," Mythra began slowly, picking her way through words. "I know what each Artifice can do in a general sense. I know they're kept in the World Tree; that they and the World Tree are the same age. I know what an Artifice is supposed to be." Mythra paused. In a silent rush she added, "I thought I did."

Mikhail blinked, trying to figure it. He had just assumed Mythra and Malos knew everything about Artifices because they were Master Blades. Just like how Jin and Haze knew everything about ice and wind ether.

Except...

Except Jin would be the first to say he  _ didn't _ know everything about his element. A master was never a master if they stopped learning, Jin would say.

"So you asked if the Artifices knew any stories," Mythra nudged.

Mikhail let Mythra change the topic. He needed time to come to terms with it, himself. "There's a big library of books on the World Tree. Ocypete let me look at a list of ones she thought I might like. Aion took a lot off the list." Mikhail couldn't help an annoyed nose twitch as he noted, "Aion flagged 'em as  _ not age appropriate. _ I'm not ten!"

"You act like it," Mythra quipped.

With no ready counter, Mikhail let it pass as best he could. (And ignored Mythra's snickers.) He pointedly said, "One of the books was about sirens. I thought it meant  _ Sirens _ . But the stories were all about monsters whose singing could hypnotize sailors. Ocypete was the littlest siren."

"And you're the littlest human."

Mikhail elbowed Mythra in the ribs. Tried to, anyway. Mythra tickled Mikhail too fast for the hit to properly connect.

Lora's jokingly sharp, "Mythra! How could you!" was all the warning they got. Before either Master Blade or Blade Eater could react, Lora had tossed herself across them both --  _ with _ the laundry she had been cleaning.

Pillows were tossed into the fray courtesy of Jin's timely arrival with Malos. Needles drawn to mischief magnets, Haze and Addam were next on scene. Before long even Minoth, who had come to drag Addam back onto his watch, was pulled into the fluffy ruckus.

Ducking behind the mechanical thing he'd been taking apart, Mikhail panted for breath. Watching everyone play left him weightless, giddy, like nothing could be wrong in the world. The world was too weighty to be put off long. And if everyone was here, who...?

~ _ Secure _ .~

Wrapped in a warm blanket in cool arms. Knowing all he loved was safe and just as warm. The best feeling in the world.

Aion probably did have better senses than the whole Marsanes, anyway. It was safe to leave the watch to the Artifices.

Second wind regained, Mikhail dove gleefully back into the fray.

* * *

The next day, Mikhail procured a blank notes' book and writing implements of the kind Addam had said scientists used by the dozens for their research. He first neatened up the part he had been taking apart, made sure all the tools were in their proper homes, and that the workroom was in good standing for whomever used it next. (Not like there was much neatening to do in the wake of the Great Laundry Skirmish.) Mikhail then made sure there were no chores or lessons snuck onto his duty roster by well-meaning adult-type persons. Seeing he was clear until mid-afternoon, Mikhail headed for Hanger 1.

Ocypete's eyes brightened as Mikhail entered. She and her nameless sister chirped a hello. Mikhail returned their hellos with an equally chipper bounce. Stopping a stone's throw from where Ocypete knelt, Mikhail looked her in the eye as best he could.

"I have a lot of questions."

Ocypete's cockpit opened as Ocypete reached forward, chirping a happy affirmative.

* * *

The break for lunch was badly needed.

Mikhail was going to need  _ a lot _ more notebooks.

* * *

Lunch was uneventful, all things considered. It wasn't as bad an over seasoned, under spiced, charcoal disaster as it could have been. Mythra  _ was _ getting better thanks in part to her pride but mostly because Jin was a Father blessed  _ saint _ with patience to match. Lora and Haze were at the helm on watch, which made the meal too quiet.

"Interesting reading?" Addam asked.

Attention off his musings, Malos looked over at Addam. He was speaking to Mikahil. Mik' had a possessive hand on a book's cover. Thinking on it, Malos hadn't seen Mik' let go of that book at all since he'd entered the mess.

"Research," Mikhail chirped around bites of lunch.

Jin hummed.

Blushing, Mikhail slowed down to actually chew his food. He swallowed before repeating, "I'm doing research."

"Oh?" Addam fished.

Mikhail brightened shyly. "I'm researching Artifices."

Mythra choking on lunch for once had nothing to do with flavor. Malos put his own meal down fast.

"Oh ho! A difficult endeavor, that!" Addam's laughing brightness dimmed to a conspiratorial chuckle. "Or perhaps not so much given the aid of a certain maiden in Hanger 1?"

Mikhail tried to keep a giggle from escaping by hiding behind his meal.

"When, exactly, did you start this," Mythra hesitated, "research project?"

"This morning," Mikhail answered.

Mythra eyed Malos. Malos eyed Mythra.

"Problem?" Minoth inquired.

Malos gave a,  _ maybe _ , hand gesture.

"The Artifices have access to a lot of information," Mythra stated.

"So I saw," Minoth humphed.

....wait.

Minoth arched a brow under the double stare of Mythra and Malos.

"So you  _ saw _ ?" Malos echoed.

Minoth rubbed at an old headache, wincing.

"I take it you went diving for lost lore and found yourself a fair more than you could carry," Addam deduced. He shared a snicker with Mikhail when Minoth grunted affirmative.

"Fiction. Non-fiction. Something called  _ science fiction _ . I could spend lifetimes trying and never make sense of it all," Minoth bemoaned.

"Shakespeare," Jin stated.

Minoth groaned, "Shakespeare!" like the word were a mortal wound. "His is the worst! There's depth to his plays, plain as a Core Crystal! But for all there is, it's locked in  _ ice _ , trapped behind diction lost to mortal knowledge."

"Is that what had you after dictionaries?" Addam chortled at Minoth's moan. Giving the old Blade room to recover, Addam turned back to Mikahil. "I believe the moral here is to beware of too much knowledge. Even the oldest and wisest can still drown in information."

Mikhail nodded. "Ocypete runs all my questions through Aion before answering."

"As she should."

Mikhail blinked, eyes widening as Jin's words registered. The confusion turned to questioning.

Jin answered the unvoiced question with a simple, "Yes."

Mikhail pouted. "'M not ten."

"Easy to say. Harder to prove," Addam mused.

"So declares the oldest kid at the table," Minoth quipped.

"Now, now, Minoth! No need to insult Mythra's age!" Addam joked.

Jin grabbed Mikhail clear before Mythra could do more than grab napkin ammunition.

* * *

The hangers were kept empty out of necessity. Knowing that, Lora brought with her a bag half her size stuffed full of tiny foam pellets. The thing was called a  _ beanbag _ ; she had found a description of it in one of Minoth's cast-off books. The one Lora had cobbled together herself was not as comfy as the book had described. Still, it was lightweight, easily portable, and more comfortable than a bare floor. The beanbag was popular with the others, too, in areas where chairs proved too cumbersome. Supplies for making more was on the requisition list.

Lora situated herself on her beanbag so that she could readily observe Mikhail tinkering away on his latest whimsy and keep watch on both Sirens. Mikhail had set up his workshop in a spot that had been a set of Cloud Sea tight lockers. There was good light, secure spots to secret tools, and various bits and bobs associated with salvager work. If Lora were pressed, she'd hazard a guess Mikhail was working with salvager gear.

"Why are there eight?" Lora wondered aloud to herself.

Mikhail paused. Looking up from his tinkering, Mikhail followed Lora's gaze to the Sirens. "Because there's eight of us?"

Lora sat up in her chair. She hadn't thought she had spoken loud enough to pierce Mikhail's focus. Now that she had his attention, Lora decided to press on. "Well, yes. But why eight Sirens? Two more atop the one each for Mythra and Malos would have been enough."

More than enough if Malos and Mythra had not been exaggerating. That much power... It was frightening to contemplate. And that was just the Sirens! Aion was a whole world unto himself. Ophion and the Gargoyles Lora didn't worry over much: They kept a strict perimeter around the World Tree, and wandered no farther. But the Siren who danced at her call...

_ I could hurt so many people without meaning to. _

Mikhail set aside his tinkering, full attention diverted to the query. "Maybe each Siren can only have one controller."

"Having eight still makes no sense. I've half Malos's Core; I could control one, Addam the other," Lora countered. "Or Jin and Minoth. They both..."

"Maybe that's why," Mikhail cut in as Lora trailed off. At Lora's blink, Mikhail elaborated, "Because we won't use 'em as weapons."

"But we will," Lora sighed.

"Sometimes, yeah. Against monsters if we gotta. But not against  _ people _ ."

Perhaps it was his youth talking, but Mikhail sounded so certain Lora wanted to believe it, too.

"Did you come up with a name for yours?" Mikhail asked.

Letting out a lengthy sigh, Lora leaned back in her beanbag near to the point of flopping onto the floor. The two Sirens knelt in peaceful serenity.

"I haven't given it much thought," Lora confessed. Did that... make her a bad person? The Sirens were and weren't like Blades in so many ways, it was difficult to articulate her feelings regarding them.

"I made a list." Mikhail blushed at Lora's blink. He rallied to explain, "There were a lot of legends about supernatural creatures in Mortha. Sirens and harpies and furies --"

"Furies?" Lora blinked. Wasn't the name of Malos's Siren's special attack Furies' Arrows?

Mikhail bounced with his excited affirmative. "Do you want to see?"

"Yes, I think I do," Lora decided.

Mikhail was a tiny whirlwind of activity putting away his tinkering things in record time. The next thing Lora knew Mikhail had her by the hand and was trying to haul Lora to her feet. And nearly succeeding at that. Bouncy, Mikhail urged Lora to hurry.

Taking her time as older sisters were wont to do, Lora followed where Mikhail led at her own pace.


	3. Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was looking though some old fics, and found this one ready for posting.

It was a stupid question. It was a stupid question and it was going to get him so many looks. So _many_ looks. And trouble. It would get him into trouble. He shouldn't ask. He shouldn't. But... But...!

"I know that look."

Biting his lip – and then not biting his lip as he felt Jin's concern chill around him – Mikhail drug his eyes off the floor. He forced himself to look his big sister in the eye. It was a shock to realize Lora no longer had to kneel down for their heights to be equal.

Lora tipped her head to the right a touch, silent prodding for Mikhail to speak up.

Pushing aside how tall he was, Mikhail squared his shoulders. "So you're a Master Driver."

"Yes," Lora hummed.

"So you can link with any Blade and use their weapons and stuff so long and the Blade's agreeable," Mikhail rambled.

Lora confirmed, "Or so Malos and Mythra say."

The two Master Blades both pouted, "Hey!" Jin speeding his tempo forced the duo to return their attention to their spar. From the sidelines, Addam snickered.

"I'm half Blade," Mikhail blurted. He didn't have to wait long: Lora's eyes went big as it clicked.

"You want me to try using your weapons?" Lora asked.

"Channeling ether and all," Mikhail confirmed, the last words coming out squeaky. Blushing in embarrassed shame Mikhail found a spot on the floor to stare at. Stupid voice cracks.

"It certainly sounds interesting. If you're sure?" Lora asked, not sounding put off by the idea.

Mikhail rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "It'd be... nice. If it works."

 _Nice_ was such a simple way to put it. There wasn't vocabulary Mikhail could find which quite fit the feelings tugging on his heart. The want to protect was easiest to name. If Lora could use Mikhail's weapons, Mikhail could protect her in a more than physical way. He could act as her Blade; add to her disguise. And _that_ made him feel... something. Not whole or part of a bigger picture or anything simple.

" _A Blade's instincts are to protect their Driver_ ," Jin's cool voice purred in his ear.

_I want to protect my sister._

Lora was not Mikhail's Driver. But she was _family_ and Mikhail _wanted to protect her_.

It was scary how badly Mikhail wanted to.

"Well," Lora mused, yanking Mikhail back to the present, "Why not? We're up next on the mats. We can try it now."

Relief, hope, trepidation, excitement all curdled in Mikhail's stomach. He managed without squeaking, "Sure."

"You know, I don't recall having seen your weapons before, Mikhail," Addam mused. "You've mentioned you've two. Dual weapons outside of beast-type Blades are rare. I've only heard of Brighid and Minoth."

"I'm nowhere near their level," Mikhail hastened to cut that thought off before it shipped.

"Anyone could get to be their level with sufficient time and practice," Addam noted, serine -- and deadly serious. The sharpness drew back, a sword sheathed, as Addam chucked, "Best to go at your own pace. We've that luxury, I think. Of which – Time!"

Jin froze, sword braced against Malos's sword. Mythra had to skip to bleed off momentum before her strike could carry through. The trio were winded. Jin was exhausted enough the white of his armor was skittering towards black, pushed so far to the edge he had almost used his half-Master Blade abilities.

 _We need a better name for that,_ Mikhail mused to himself. Part of Mikhail was itching to channel ether to Jin. He looked tired.

" _I'm fine_ ," Jin murmured in unheard promise.

Mikhail frowned, equally silent, _You sure?_

Jin stepped back --

Malos caught him before his knees could buckle. Jin made as though to push Malos back.

"Don't," Malos commanded, grumpy, eyes half closed, already reaching for Jin's Core Crystal. Jin sighed as he yielded, closing his eyes. Mythra hovered on the edge, ready to grab the both of them if need be. Lora grabbed Mikhail's hand, holding him back – and holding herself back. Mikhail could _feel_ how Lora was holding her breath. Almost like ether was pooling around her, dry tinder braced for a spark.

Malos winced. Jin hissed like he had pulled a muscle.

White armor shattered into diamond dust. Black solidified in its wake. The tenseness in Jin's expression eased and his shaking muscles stilled. He exhaled a relieved, "oh."

Sighing, Malos leaned back, removing his hand as he stood. The darkness Master Blade's lips quirked upward as he parodied Jin's, "Oh."

Mikhail couldn't stop a worried, "Jin?" Jin's second form wasn't _bad_ , but he tried to spend as little time in it as possible. Something about the flavor of ether being different between the two -- _oh._ The ether flow!

"He used too much ether at once," Malos answered, confirming Mikhail's guess. He eyed Jin, who gave a slight nod. Malos returned the nod in kind. To the rest of them Malos announced, "The wings aren't stabilizers. They're ether collectors."

"Like a Titan?" Addam blinked, eyes widening with surprise. Malos nodded affirmative. Addam leaned back, eyeing Jin in a new light. "Oh my."

"Storing up too much ether is as bad as storing too little. For Titans swimming in the Cloud Sea, its not a problem." Mythra looked Jin over, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. "It explains why you don't stay in the new armor. Drawing atmospheric ether is a reflex."

Jin nodded, agreeing. "In this form... It's difficult to limit the intake of ether."

Mythra and Malos nodded. "Twenty minutes," Malos directed.

"As the Wise One says," Jin acquiesced, a smile teasing at his lips.

"Be a good example, O Great Paragon," Malos countered with a matching smirk.

Mythra looked at Lora; pointedly rolled her eyes. Lora snickered, coughed, and immediately tried to look as though she hadn't reacted.

 _Girls_ , Mikhail sighed.

"Alright, all of you, let's move on, shall we?" Addam intervened. "Minoth will be after my hide any minute now."

Chuckles echoed through the group. Whenever a new story had hold of Minoth was when he was most tenacious about the schedule. The sooner his shifts were done, the sooner he could get back to writing in earnest. This one was proving to be a production; Minoth was saying _nothing_. The hours spent in his domain said plenty for him.

Mythra, Malos, and Jin made their way off the mats. Mythra grabbed the water canteens hanging from a handy peg and tossed two at Malos and Jin. Drinks in hand, the trio settled in to watch. ...a fact that made Mikhail twitch. Jin watching was one thing. Everyone watching? He was going to get laughed at.

A cool push of ether nudged Mikhail towards the mats where Lora was already waiting.

Breathing in, Mikhail closed his eyes to better find his center. Breathing out, he let go of his trepidation. (At least he tried to. Butterflies with razor wings were twisting up his stomach.) Raising his ether as he raised his hands, Mikhail willed, _My weapons._

His Core Crystal reacted. Brightening with the inflow of ether, his Core Crystal generated his weapon crystal. Mik' tightened his grip – and his weapons manifested, sending night black feathers drifting around him like snow drifted around Jin. He gave the paired war fans a twist to knock off the remaining feathers, wondering again _why_ there were so many. Freed of the last errant fluff, Mikhail closed his fans, shifted his grip, and held them out to Lora.

Who was _staring_.

"Oh _Mik'_ ," Lora whimpered. Her fingers brushed Mikhail's as Lora took hold of the fans. Mikhail resisted the urge to squirm. Shifting her grip so both fans were cradled in her left arm, Lora traced her right hand's fingers over metal and feathers and crystal. A shimmer leaped up Mikhail's spine. When Lora looked up, her expression was weirdly soft. She cooed, "They're _beautiful._ "

Mikhail blushed. A Blade's weapon was an extension of themselves, sure. But Lora was going gaga over steal, ether, and _feathers._ "They're just weapons," Mikhail managed not to sputter.

"They're not _just_ anything. They're _your_ weapons. Ergo, they're just as grand as you," Lora humphed, tone declaring her words final. Mikhail gave up arguing the silliness of it all as a lost cause. Must have been a girl thing.

"Mik'." There was a tenseness to Mythra's tone that had Mikhail's full attention. Once Mikhail was looking her in the eye, Mythra asked, voice tight, "Where have you been keeping your weapons when you're not using them?"

Malos and Jin both gave Mythra befuddled looks.

"I just break them when--"

All eyes zeroed in on Mikhail faster than Lora could yelp, " _Mikhail_!"

Mikhail flinched, feeling like he was going to be hit. The sensation was familiar: An old reflex from echoes of memories of a time before Jin. No one here was going to hit him outside of a spar. But still, he...

Ice and love and gentle sorrow.

A coin on a string, Mikhail was yanked over to Jin. "Not your fault," Mikhail blurted, face smooshed against Jin's chest, arms wrapped tight around Jin's middle. Mikhail didn't know what _it_ was, but he knew Jin shouldn't feel sorrow for it.

Jin returned the hug, tentative.

"Huh," Malos blinked.

"Yeah," Mythra concurred.

"Alright, you lot," Addam groused. "From the top, if you please. _Use your words_."

"Jin's Mik's Driver," Malos stated simply.

...wait, what?

"I'm Mikhail's Blade," Jin stated the obvious.

"You're also his Driver," Malos reiterated.

"Best guess, you set yourself as his Driver when you were fixing his Core," Mythra elucidated.

"But I'm a _Blade_ ," Jin repeated, the concept too outlandish to understand.

"Mik'?" Mikhail turned to look at Malos without letting go of Jin. "You let Jin use your weapons?"

"I demonstrated a technique," Jin tried to interrupt.

"Did you channel ether to Jin while he was demonstrating?" Malos ran over Jin's protests.

Mikhail's brow furrowed as he thought back. It had been years since the night his weapons had first formed. Watching Jin move with his fans had been too amazing to notice anything else, but... maybe...

"I think so...?" Mikhail waffled. "I remember Jin did a cool leap and there was darkness ether following him."

"Ether from your weapons," Jin stated.

Malos nodded in exaggerated slowness, trying to smother a prankster's grin. Why he was grinning was a question sidetracked by Malos asking, "Lora?"

"Yes?" Lora was over next to them already.

"Give Jin Mik's weapon's," Malos requested.

Jin gave Malos a flat _look._

"If we're wrong, worst that's lost is time," Malos countered.

Jin sighed, closing his eyes as if he could close out the crazy. Left arm still holding Mikhail, Jin reached with his right.

Ether pulled through Mikhail to Jin. It wasn't like times before where Mikhail had channeled without thought. It was a sidestep. From Mikhail's Core through Mikhail's weapons into –

_My Driver!_

Mikhail melted into the sensation of belonging, home, friendship, brotherhood – of being _whole_. If he had been a cat, Mikahil would have been purring.

"Mik'?" Jin asked, sounding stunned.

"Comfy," Mikhail reported lackadaisically.

Jin's ether connected to Mikhail, Blade to Driver. The sensation echoed the delightful belonging, amplifying it. Jin gave a stunned little, " _oh_ ," and went not quite limp.

Driver and Blade. Blade and Driver. Alloyed links forged of ether wrought steel. Mikhail could stay here forever and want for nothing.

" _No more hiding your weapons. No more hiding_ this _,_ " Jin requested within the ether.

 _M'kay,_ Mikhail readily agreed.

"Are they going to take a nap?" Lora whispered, tone concerned. Malos must have shrugged because the next thing Mikhail heard was Lora's hand impacting Malos's arm.

Mythra's foot tapped an aggravated rhythm against steel. "This is cute and all, but can we get back to the fact Mik' was _shattering his weapons_?"

"Don't do that," Jin admonished.

"I won't," Mikhail promised. Swallowing a spike of embarrassment, he asked, "Why?"

"A Blade's weapon is like a limb. Breaking it hurts," Malos explained.

"On the practical side, a Blade's weapon is solid ether. It becomes tempered over time. It's a good way to judge a Blade and Driver's strength," Addam tacked on. He paused. "Breaking it is rather like breaking bones, yes, but I know of a few more pointed analogies involving torture devices. One phrase which comes to mind: Break the weapon, break the Blade."

Erk. "But it didn't feel like...!" Mikhail stumbled over his words, tripped up by warmth. "Sure it hurt to break 'em. But it didn't hurt like _that_."

"It doesn't matter because you won't be breaking them any more," Lora hopped in. Mikhail didn't need to see her to know Lora was nodding determinedly. "Yes, you absolutely won't, because I'll be taking them."

Mikhail sputtered against Jin's chest, "Lora!"

"Protective custody!" Lora continued unabashed. "And, they'll go _perfect_ with my costume! All those lovely feathers --"

Lora broke off. Mikhail tensed.

"Can you make more feathers?"

Mikhail blinked. Turning, Mikhail looked at Lora. Lora looked legitimately curious, like she had a plan cooking.

"Do I _look_ like a bird?" Mikhail groused.

"You look like my little brother," Lora answered without hesitation. "Now, can you or can't you? Those feathers would look lovely laced into a necklace."

Mikhail felt his face heating. "I don't know."

"We'll need to find out. And we'll need to let Haze know right away. Costume alterations will be a must!" Lora exclaimed gleefully.

Mikhail absently wished the floor would open up to swallow him. _I knew this would be embarrassing_...

Jin's chuckle soothed Mik's (metaphorical) ruffled feathers.


	4. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set some time after Bonds.

They were drifting in the Cloud Sea. Ostensibly, they were looking for any new continental Titans so as to mark them on their map and better keep an eye on the whole. In reality, they were taking a break. Their last attempt to slip an extraction route under Indol’s noses had led to them nearly being  _ in _ Indol’s nose. So to speak.

They were stressed, and they were tired, and so they were out in the middle of nowhere, just themselves, the stars, and the Cloud Sea.

Lora leaned back in her beanbag chair. A rough woven blanket kept the night chill of the Monoceros’s hull from seeping through. The stars above swept out in a blanket all their own. Behind her, quiet like birds bedding down to rest, the others were collecting their own plates and goblets of snacks and drinks. The only lighting was from the stars and a small ether lamp on the snack table, making it so anyone who wasn’t a darkness element was stepping gingerly.

A second beanbag was plopped down next to her. Two plates of snacks and things were set between her and the newcomer along with two mugs of something that smelled fruity sweet.

“One of the new fruit drink blends?” Lora asked.

“Ye-ah.”

Even though it was dark, Lora could see the blush coloring Mikhail’s cheeks as he got into his seat. His voice starting to change was a new thing not even two days old.

Lora was so terribly glad her little brother had lived long enough to hit puberty. Paradoxically, she was a little sad he was. This wasn’t the life Mikhail should have lived. On the whole, it was a good life, though. Nowhere near perfect. Still, it was good. Later, Lora would have to try meditating; root out the nostalgic cause of her sadness and give it a proper mourning pyre.

They sat companionably for a while. They ate their snacks, drank their drinks, and pondered. Lora looked over at her little brother.

_ Mik’s as tall as I am now. _

As tall as she was and faring to keep growing. His limbs were whipish and gangly. If it weren’t for how much Lora knew he ate and how fit she knew he was, Lora would think Mikhail was  _ too _ thin. Near as thin as he’d been so very long ago.

Goodness. How long  _ had _ it been? Lora was somewhere in her thirties, she thought. No. Fifties?

“Oh dear,” Lora murmured to herself.

Mikhail nudged her foot with his own.

“I’ve lost track of how old I am,” Lora admitted.

“Age is a statistic,” Addam quipped without concern.

Yes, well, it used to be a statistic that  _ meant _ something. That it didn’t now was… Absently, Lora brushed her fingers around her half of the Core Crystal. What did it say that age meant nothing?

What did it mean about herself?

Mikhail nudged Lora’s foot again. When Lora looked over at him, Mikhail asked, “Tell me abou-t before again?”

_Before_ _when_ wasn’t even a question, really. There was only one _before_ when it came to Mikhail and she.

Lora hummed as she thought. “I’ve told you all the really  _ good _ stories, I think. Certainly all the embarrassing ones.” There were predictable snickers from family not even pretending not to eavesdrop. Lora asked, “Anything in particular?”

Mikhail hummed, foot tapping against hers in an idle twitch. After a beat he asked, “When I moved in?”

Lora let out a long sigh. That was the oldest story there was between them. And the oldest lie, too.

“Do you remember what Mother would tell you?” Lora asked to ensure she had a place to start.

“I showed up one day with a let-ter from her sister,” Mikhail answered without pause. Either he remembered it truly or he remembered Jin telling him, either or.

Lora sat up on her beanbag, tucking her legs up against her. “That’s what Mother would tell you, yes. You did come wandering into town by your lonesome.” Lora fidgeted a pinch before confessing, “You just didn’t have a letter.”

* * *

Lora stayed close next to Mother. Mother kneeled in the morning dew soft dirt of the fields. With her left hand, Mother cupped a green sprout dotted with a dozen small white flowers. With her right hand, Mother beckoned Lora to lean closer.

“Take a sniff,” Mother asked. Lora did so. The scent was faintly earthy and reminded Lora of broccoli. Lora leaned away, making a face which had Mother laughing. “It's not so bad, my love. Do you see these little fruits? How they look like purses?” When Lora nodded, Mother explained, “That’s one way to know you’ve got shepherd’s purse. Used right, it can help with heart problems.”

“Is that why -?” Lora started to ask.

A body crashing through the bush silenced Lora. Too frightened to even move, Lora watched as the body wavered on its feet. Eyes rolled up into the body’s head and the body crashed into the ground.

Mother rushed to their side. How, Lora didn’t know. Lora herself could not move. Mother moved her hands along the body’s arms, then chest, then legs, then turned the body over so they were laying on their back. Mother ran her fingers over the body’s head. She hissed when she saw a cord wrapped around the body’s neck. With a deft stroke of her pocket knife, Mother cut the cord. She violently tossed the cord back into the bush the body had crashed through.

Mother hissed a dozen words under her breath. Lora knew they were all particularly  _ bad _ words. One word stood out the most: Slavers.

“Lora.”

Even though she was scared of the body, Lora came to her Mother’s side. Mother grabbed Lora firmly by both arms.

“If  _ anyone _ asks, this boy is your cousin from Torna. He had a death letter from my sister, your aunt. Is that clear?”

Lora swallowed.

“Repeat it, love.”

“He’s my cousin from Torna. He had a death letter from aunty,” Lora repeated, not comprehending.

“Good.” Mother gave her a little shake. Turning from Lora back to the body, Mother scooped the body into her arms. The body was so small Mother could carry them in her right arm and hold Lora’s shoulder with her left. “Once we’re in the village, you’ll need to fetch water from the well for me, love. We’ve got a bit of work to do tonight.”

Lora managed a, “Yes mother,” but could manage no more.

As they walked hurriedly back to the village, Lora looked at the body. They were small, and thin, and terribly frail. The hair was a dull sunshine yellow. They made a sad kind of moan and turned to press against Mother’s chest.

“Will he die, Mother?” Lora couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“Not if I can help it,” Mother stated simply.

As soon as they were in the village, Lora went to fetch fresh water from the well. She heard one of the village busybodies try and stop Mother. They exclaimed, “What in the fresh hells is that?”

“My sister’s son. He’s ill. I don’t know if it’s catching.”

Lora was too busy hauling water to giggle at the busybody’s scream.

Mother had put the body in her bed by time Lora returned with the water. Mother took off the body’s clothes. She directed Lora to fill up one of the soup dishes with water and to bring the cleanest rags they had. Lora did so. In the time it took her to do that, Mother had the body dressed in one of the dresses that no longer fit Lora.

Sky blue eyes cracked open fitfully.

“Easy, child. You’re safe here,” Mother whispered, stroking her fingers through the body’s blond hair. “Drink a little water,” Mother directed. She helped the body sit up and held the water filled soup bowl to their lips. They took a tiny sip slowly, coughed, then took a much longer sip. Mother helped ease them back in bed.

Lora came up onto the bed to look the boy in the eye. His eyes flickered to her and wrinkled.

“What’s your name?” Lora asked.

“Mikhail,” the boy answered weakly.

“I’m Lora. This is Mother. We’ll take care of you,” Lora said. Mother was smiling as she spoke.

Blue eyes slid closed into a fitful, restless sleep.

* * *

“The slavers came that afternoon.” Lora snorted mirthlessly into her cradled drink cup. The drink within would have sloshed had the cup not been drained dry already. “It was the one time Gort did something  _ honest _ . I don’t know what Gort did, or how he did it, but the slavers left and never came back.”

The silence that followed was deafening to Lora. She couldn’t put her cup down. She didn’t dare for fear her hands shaking would be noticeable.

Mikhail stood up. Lora braced herself for - she wasn’t quite sure what. A rant. A denial. An accusation. Most horrifying of all, a declaration that he wasn’t  _ who he was _ , Lora’s dearest little brother.

The empty cup was taken from her hands. Mikhail laced his fingers with hers. The beanbag wasn’t meant for two, but Mikhail didn’t care, nudging his way onto the seat so that his head was on Lora’s shoulder and the rest of him was cuddled close. It was identical to those many, many times before when it had just been the two siblings sharing a single bed.

“Best big sister,” Mikhail murmured, squeezing her hands in lieu of hugging Lora tight.

Lora was  _ not _ going to sniffle even if relief left her feeling lighter than air.

Minoth broke the minutes’ long silence to ask, “What was your mother’s name?”

It took several minutes for Lora to remember. “Rynea? Or Rama?” Lora wiped her tears off with the back of her sleeve. “I’m sorry. I’ve called her Mother for so long, I seem to have forgotten everything else.”

“Diary,” Mikhail suggested into her shoulder.

Truly, that wasn’t a terrible idea at all.

“Hmm.”

Lora stiffened. If it weren’t for Mikhail, she would have risen to give Minoth a  _ look _ . She  _ knew _ that hum. “Minoth! You wouldn’t!”

“Memorialize the woman who sheltered my Prince’s daughter from the likes of Gort and who saved my Prince’s son from slavers? I rather think I would,” Minoth countered with an amused rumble.

“She does sound like an amazing woman. A damn shame I never thought to search for her. I would have liked to meet her,” Addam sighed.

“It would have been a most enlightening meeting,” Haze opined. Mythra added a humming agreement.

Lora was blushing in embarrassment. Honestly. Her mother, a common harlot, meeting Addam, Prince of Torna. That would have been a lark.

“You know I don’t care we’re not blood related, right?” Mikhail murmured. The sound was barely audible he was speaking so quietly. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Lora pressed her forehead against her little brother’s. “Not a thing,” she agreed.

Like a comforter made of a passing shadow and a kiss of frost, Lora felt Malos and Jin’s smiles settle over her little brother and she.


End file.
